


It's not the size of the gift, but of the heart that gives it

by SiwgrGalon



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Anniversary, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Politics, Presents, Romance, it's just really sweet, mcpriceley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:29:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiwgrGalon/pseuds/SiwgrGalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Connor and Kevin celebrate their first anniversary, exchange gifts and Kevin is momentarily stumped by what he finds beneath the wrapping. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>‘I hope it’s not too much?’ </i><br/><i>Just as quickly, uncertainty had started to creep back into Connor’s voice. </i><br/><i>‘It’s a wonderful gift, thank you very much,’ Kevin says, his voice sincere as he gently links their fingers.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not the size of the gift, but of the heart that gives it

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by recent and potentially future political events - here's some possibly pointless fluff, for your reading pleasure. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, so forgive me any misspellings.

Jewelry is not something Kevin Price _does_ , save for the silver band around his ring finger, but that’s something else entirely.

As such, he can’t help but be a bit confused when Connor magics up a robin egg blue square box, handing it to Kevin with a small smile.

‘I got you something,’ he says, and there’s a tone in his voice Kevin can’t quite place. Excitement, maybe curiosity, as if he can’t wait for his partner to open it.

‘It’s nothing much, but I thought today might be a nice time to give it to you. Since we’re celebrating, and all.’

They had decided not to do big presents, despite today being their first wedding anniversary, so a box from Tiffany & Co. does come as a slight shock.

It’s not that they’re poor, although they’re still students. They're not rich, either, but between the two of them, they have enough so they don't have to worry about eating rice and ketchup at the end of the month. Admittedly, that is in parts down to Connor’s full-ride scholarship, catering for just about anything he needs so the the older man can keep his savings, originally intended for college, for rainy days or emergencies or, on very rare occasion, to treat himself and Kevin.

It’s more that they’d agreed to, instead of focusing on grand gestures and gifts, make their anniversaries about them, much like their wedding. That had been a small affair, too, but it had been sweet and quite romantic in itself.

Kevin’s family – including Jack, his wife and their newborn daughter – had attended, as had Arnold, Nabulungi and their other mission brothers. They’d invited Connor’s parents, but never received any answer; his sisters had declined, saying they didn’t want to anger their father. It had probably been for the best.

So now, a year later, the couple are tucked away in their favorite Italian restaurant, not far from either their apartment or Broadway. It’s nothing overly fancy or high-class, although they do have nicely pristine, white tablecloths and a long, cream candle in the middle of their table. Instead, it’s small and cozy and so very much _them_ , Kevin thinks he can’t ever go here with anyone else besides the man sitting across from him.

Speaking of which, Connor’s chin is cushioned on his hands and he’s looking at Kevin with a certain gleam in his eyes, telling of everything that hides beneath the often so composed surface.

‘Don’t look at it like that,’ he says, nodding slightly towards the box, as if he can read Kevin’s thoughts.

‘Just open it and you may be surprised. It doesn't always have to be what it says on the box.’

The redhead looks very pleased with himself, indeed. 

‘Ooooh, a mystery,' Kevin chuckles as he slowly lifts the lid, curiously peeking at the contents.

Inside, cushioned on turquoise velvet – or whatever it is they use, Kevin really doesn’t know – lies a rectangular package. Neatly wrapped in the simple, dark blue paper they last bought, Connor even went as far as to tie a ribbon around it.

Kevin isn’t quite sure whether he actually sighs in relief at the fact that it's most definitely not what the packaging suggested, but when he quickly looks up into Connor’s face, the smile has turned cheeky.

‘You didn’t really think I’d get you jewelry, did you?’

His voice carries the teasing quality Kevin loves so much, the slight lilt hinting at Connor’s playful, uncontrolled side.

‘I know you that well, Kevin. I just got the box when we bought your sister's present last week… it took me some work, but when you were distracted I managed to convince the cashier to give me to box. Your face was worth it, though.’

With a good-natured scoff, Kevin begins to carefully unwrap the present. Going by shape and feel it could be anything – it’s not entirely stiff, but it also doesn’t have much give, and he’s not sure whether the rounded edged are because it’s wrapped or whether they’re part of what lies beneath.

He does, however, know that his exaggerated care in unwrapping is driving Connor up the wall, although he’d never show it in public, so in revenge, Kevin draws it out a tiny bit longer.

Imagine his surprise when a small, bordeaux red booklet falls into his lap. A passport.

Confusion is written all over his face as he looks into Connor’s eyes, searching the redhead’s face for answers to questions Kevin hasn’t yet articulated.

‘It’s a… passport?’

A nod and a small smile.

‘Yep,’ Connor pops his p as some uncertainty creeps into his voice.

‘But maybe take a closer look.’

Catching Kevin’s eyes are words he doesn’t immediately understand, followed by the image of a harp emblazoned on the front.

‘What…? Why are you giving me your passport?’

He feels ridiculous, like in a film, but Kevin looks up again, meeting Connor’s gaze.

‘It’s no my passport, silly.’ The insecurity is still clearly audible, but Kevin hears something else creep into Connor’s voice. Something akin to a fond exasperation, as if the redhead was explaining the most obvious thing in the world, but it doesn’t hold any malice.

‘It’s yours.’

Well, that just cleared things up. Not.

His growing confusion must be written all over Kevin’s face, because Connor continues unprompted.

‘I got it for you… I hope you don’t mind.’

A pause, slightly hesitant.

‘Welcome to Ireland, I guess?’

Kevin still doesn’t quite understand, but considering Connor’s heritage, and the date he chose to give Kevin his gift, the young man has an inkling that this is about more than just a piece of paper allowing him to travel the EU without any visas.

‘Uhm… thank you. But… how? And, most importantly, why?’

Opening up the document, Kevin can’t help but chuckle at the picture. It’s really him, and it’s that gosh-awful picture he had to use for everything; it’s a miracle no one turned him away yet. Passport pictures are not very becoming, even when you’re as handsome as Kevin Price.

‘Well…’ Connor draws out the e sound; it’s the only time Kevin ever thinks his husband sounds even remotely Irish, and even then it’s still very far from what a real Irishman would probably sound like.

‘The how is easy. Well, relatively so.

‘I’ve got double citizenship, so I tried to get you a spousal visa-passport-thing; but for that we’d have to be married for three years, and we’d have to live in Ireland for a year, and then you’d have to prove you want to stay.

‘So when that was rejected, I spoke to your parents. We did some digging, found out that apparently one of your great-grandparents was Irish and I applied for you again. By some sort of miracle, that went through, and the passport arrived a few weeks later.

‘As for the why,’ Connor takes Kevin’s hand. There’s no teasing in his voice, and he looks so sincere Kevin knows that whatever is to follow is important.

‘Don’t laugh, but I thought it’d be good to have somewhere else to go. The elections are coming up, and I know we’re both going to vote Hillary, but what about the rest of the country?’

Since meeting Connor, and falling in love with him (and getting married to him, Kevin’s mind whispers), Kevin has become more and more invested in politics, so he has an idea where this is going.

‘Trump won’t be elected as president, though.’ By the way Connor’s eyes darken, even if it’s just momentarily, Kevin knows he’s hit the nerve.

‘They also said Britain wouldn’t vote to leave the European Union, and we’re all seeing how that worked out,’ comes the instant reply, a slight bitterness marring the smooth timbre.

‘It might be stupid to think that far, but what if Trump wins? What if we get a president who’s not just racist and sexist, but also against LGBT rights?

‘His election is not impossible, and that makes us unsafe. Nobody knows what would happen, but considering he wants to build a wall on the Mexican border, we shouldn’t get our hopes up.

‘I have a way out, a place to go to, but I wouldn’t want to go anywhere without you by my side, or without knowing you’re safe.’

Listening to his husband, his _Irish-American_ husband, whose voice grows passionate in that typical Connor-is-discussing-something-he-cares-deeply-about way, Kevin can’t help but be touched.

It’s so sincere, it feels a bit their wedding day to Kevin, like Connor’s vows – hand-written on a piece of paper, in his neat, nearly-cursive script, the redhead had stuttered his way through the first few words before crumpling up the paper and just winging it, making Kevin and the audience cry in the process.

Like the vows, Connor’s little speech – and, indeed, the passport – was so thoughtful, Kevin has to order his thoughts for a moment and compose himself before he feels able to speak. Emotions are as wonderful as they are inconvenient and confusing at times.

His silence, however, only seems to raise questions.

‘I hope it’s not too much?’

Just as quickly, uncertainty had started to creep back into Connor’s voice.

‘It’s a wonderful gift, thank you very much,’ Kevin says, his voice sincere as he gently links their fingers.

And it is, Kevin thinks. It's about more than just a way out; it's his partner sharing culture, sharing something that although he doesn't really identify with it (and Kevin knows Connor doesn't identify much with his Irish side, to put it mildly) is an integral part of his self, sharing his hopes and dreams and wishes and love.

'Are you sure?'

'It's perfect.'

The metal of the matching ring on Connor’s hand is cool against Kevin’s skin, and he can’t help but grin a little at the knowledge that this man is his, and his alone.

‘I could tell you that you worry too much, and that it’s all unlikely, but you know that yourself and I can’t refute your arguments.

‘Not to mention that the idea of running away to Ireland with you sounds very tempting, my little leprechaun, should Donald move into the White House.’

As Connor laughs, quietly, something in Kevin’s heart swells; the tension, as miniscule as it had been, is broken for good.

‘Have you ever been to Ireland, though?’

Connor shakes his head, grinning.

‘Never. I have no idea what it’s like, but going by what my nan says, it’s very green, very quiet and sometimes very rainy. To be honest, I’m not even entirely sure which side of the border my family is from.

‘We could go for our honeymoon, though.’

Kevin laughs, louder than his partner did, but from what the younger man can see, nobody bats an eye. 

‘Oh you! We’re not honeymooning in Ireland. Going by our luck, we’d land somewhere on a farm in the middle of nowhere,’ Kevin teases.

And it’s true – the last time they took a road trip, to visit the Prices in Provo, the couple had decided to drive instead of flying, to take in the country. As lovely as it had been, some of the motels they had stayed in had definitely been a bit questionable.

‘But while we’re at it, I knew we said we wouldn’t do big gifts, but I got you something, too.’

Under Connor’s inquisitive gaze, Kevin can’t help but break into a grin, slowly packing his gift together again.

‘It’s a short walk away, but you’ll love it.’

‘What is it?’

As they slowly make their way out of the restaurant, their hands linked together and gently swinging between the two of them, Kevin decides to play it out a bit longer. 

‘It’s a tiny little show, nothing major, and it only cost me ten bucks each, but I’m sure you’ll like it.’

‘That sounds wonderful.’  
  
The gentle kiss Connor presses to Kevin’s cheeks breaks the deal faster than the younger man would like to admit. 

‘I know, right. By the way, have you ever heard of Hamilton? It's nothing big, but I won their ticket lottery and thought I’d take you along as my hot date.’

Connor’s squeal of delight, and the following kiss - slow and deep, the kind that could potentially lead to more would they let it get away from them – fills Kevin with even more happiness.

\----

Kevin Price doesn’t do jewelry, but through Connor McKinley, the young man learned that he does do musicals. Well, most of them, and after some prompting in a few cases (if he ever has to listen to Cats again, Kevin might have to think up some serious revenge plans). It doesn’t have exclusively to do with the fact that Kevin is married to an aspiring actor – and one that will make it far, he’s convinced - but it definitely helps.

And as captivating and moving and amazing as Hamilton is, he can’t tear himself away from watching Connor here and there, watch the emotion play out along his features. 

Kevin knows what Eliza means when she’s singing about being helpless, because he is sure that’s what he feels like, too.

During the interval, he takes out the passport again, turning it in his fingers and slowly rifling through the thick pages.

‘Are you alright?’

There’s no judgment in Connor’s voice, only curiosity, so Kevin turns to him with a reassuring smile. 

‘More than alright, even. I’m just marveling at how wonderful you are.’

It’s cheesy, so cheesy that Connor blushes before pressing a chaste kiss to Kevin's lips, but it’s true; and as Kevin looks at that horrid passport photo of himself, his mother's voice echoes in his head.

‘It’s not the size of a present that matters,’ she had said at some point, probably while teaching a lesson during Family Home Evening.

‘It’s the size of the heart that gives it. That’s what counts. Something may be a small as a dime, but it can come from a place where it means the world.’

Back then, the words had only made so much sense (Kevin had been very young), but now, as he’s sat here with Connor by his side and proof of his newly-acquired dual citizenship in his hands, Kevin thinks he finally understands what she meant.

**Author's Note:**

> I did actually research how to get an Irish passport, and yes, it is kind of 'that easy', if you break it down. The great-grandparent option actually has some extra rules, but for the sake of the (length of the) story, I left those out.   
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, I'd very much appreciate kudos and/or comments - they very often make my day :)


End file.
